


New Tricks

by paupersQueen



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pet people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 05:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3517910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paupersQueen/pseuds/paupersQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not quite a dog eat dog world and Jason's having a hard time adjusting to that. Dick proceeds to make it worse before it gets better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Tricks

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at like 5 AM and so when I wake up, I will see countless grammatical errors. I will fix them then. For now, I'm sleeping.

In all honesty, the party had only partially been a disaster. In the beginning it had gone-- fine. As a "pet", Jason was expected to appear as-per common social standards; Bruce's standards were, however, he only had to be there for the start. Jason bucked against the idea of even that much, but Bruce won, as he always did. And so, dressed in a starchly pressed suit that Alfred had hand picked for him, Jason stood in the corner and glared at his toes, confined in tight fitting scuffed black shoes. 

He'd been down here for close to an hour now. In 10 minutes, he could go. Bruce said he could go. He only had *ten more minutes*. 

"Aw, look at the little doggie!" 

Jason hunched into himself even more as the woman's drunken cooing filtered in from the side. His eyes slid along the floor until he saw her polished red heels. She was leaning heavily on a man beside her, he himself taking slightly uncoordinated steps.

"Honey bunny, let's go pet the doggie!" She halted their progression with a stumble, neither of the pair truly prepared to actually stop moving. She simpered saccherinely at her partner. "It's so cute, it must be lonely sitting in the corner like that."

"That thing?" The man slurred, clearly amused. "It's probably got fleas. That's Wayne's charity case, dear, some kind of fighting dog he picked up off the streets."

She gasped slightly. "What? And Brucie's got it out here, with all of us? What if it bites someone? Oh honey, what if its got rabies or something?" 

Jason had had enough. Red faced in anger and embarrassment, he pulled his head up and he looked away from the pair of drunks and started walking away, keeping close to the wall. (The wall was safe, it was defendable, he had to defend himself against all these people--) Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the figure of Bruce Wayne watching him, but he wills himself not to look, not to see disapproval written on that face. His ten minutes weren't up, but he was done anyway, he was going away from all these awful people and their awful words and, a-and--

"Whoa, buddy, where do you think you're going?" A hand grabs his arm and Jason instinctually pulls away, fighting that grip. A low growl in the back of his throat, Jason struggles, looking up to see--

Dick. The bird is staring down at him with a judgemental curve in his brow, a furrow of annoyance that sets Jason's teeth on edge. He didn't want to hate the man, but Dick was really good at getting on Jason's bad side. Really, really good.

He remained tense, glaring up at him. "Upstairs. Leggo."

"Uh, no. C'mon, you promised Bruce, just a little while longer."

"No." he scowled, fangs in clear view and the hair on the back of his neck rising. "Let go!"

"Jason, do it for Bruce, only 10 more minutes--"

"No!" He repeats, finally ripping himself out of Dick's grip. The motion puts him off balance, stumbling backwards--

And right into a waiter, holding a tray of champagne glasses. The tray clatters against the ground while the glass shatters, the alcoholic liquid puddling on the marble floors. A hush over takes the whole room and Jason feels like every eye is directly on him. He can't breathe. Someone whispers cruelly in another person's ear, practically ringing in Jason's own:

"What a filthy animal. No manners at all."

His lungs have ceased to function. Blood rushed to his face and Jason thought he might cry. And then, like the breaking of a spell, the last person Jason wanted to talk to opened his mouth.

"Jason--" Dick starts, an unreadable expression on his face, reaching out with open hands. 

"I told you no! I told you *no*!" Jason practically shouts, upset and angry. Dick stands there, frozen, as Jason pushes past the waiter and runs for the stairs, barreling up them two at a time. 

Prickling with shame, the bird stands there with his wings pressed tightly against his back, like the contact alone might help relieve the pressure of emotions. It doesn't.

On the other side of the room, Bruce stares after, stuck with his awful guests and feeling worthless.

\--

The minute Jason gets upstairs, he barrels towards his room, feeling claustrophobic in the clothes he'd been forced to wear tonight. His face felt tight with embarrassment and shame, barely held back tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. Stupid Dick, why did he have to do that? Why couldn't he have just let it go, just-- just let Jason be alone and not around all those awful, awful people. 

He rips his tie off roughly fumbling with buttons as he walks. Jason wasn't the perfect pet like stupid Dick, he knew it, he was just some dumb charity case that Bruce picked up because he felt *guilty* and it was *dumb* and tonight, he'd realize his mistake and Jason would go to the pound, tossed out like garbage. He was just some dumb dog, only good for fighting and breaking things. Lost in his self loathing, Jason rounded a corner clipping a pedestal with his shoulder as he walked. It buckled and Jason audibly gasped, eyes wide with horror as he reached out to catch the vase that had previously been on top of it. 

It slipped through his fingers like a figment of his imagination, but making a very real noise as it shattered on impact with the ground below. He stared at it in disbelief, fragments of priceless china laying across the floor in some kind of stark mockery of Jason's life. His hands, still reaching out, curled in and out of fists, flexing frantically. Somehow, they found their way up to the top of his head, gripping his ragged ears as he gasped for breath. 

At some point between that and the breaking of the vase, Jason Todd, former fighting dog and all around self proclaimed terrible pet, had begun to sob. He took a few frantic steps back, stumbling til he reached the wall, before curling up against it and burying his face into his knees. 

He tried so hard to be good, to do what he had to do to make Bruce happy but it-- 

It was never going to work. 

He was just some dumb mutt who couldn't do anything right.

\--

Minutes after the party resumed, conversation flowing once again, Dick pulled himself away and headed up the steps. He'd-- He'd really messed that up. But that seemed to be the story of his life these days. Dick Grayson, huge screw up, horrible brother. He could almost feel Bruce's eyes on the back of his head, the silent command of 'Fix this' ringing in his ears. He had begun to realize that perhaps people were partially right; hindsight was 20/20. And in hindsight, it was easy to see the panic in Jason's eyes, feel the frantic flex of muscles underneath that suit. Jason didn't feel at home here, in this glamourous world that Bruce had brought them both to. And Dick had just publically humiliated him right in the middle of it. 

As he walked towards Jason's room, the sound of the party had begun to fade, and a new one had emerged. It sounded like-- crying? The cadence was uneven, ragged around the edges, and as he got closer and closer, it was easier and easier to recognize the sound of horrible sobbing. Dick rounded the corner carefully, taking in the scene with wide eyes. The small figure of Jason (barely more than a puppy Dick realizes suddenly like Jason's age had been unclear til this point), was curled up against the wall in some pathetic form of self comfort. His arms wrapped around his knees, his hair mussed from hands and fingers ruining Alfred's careful work, and the shattered remains of a vase in stark white against the mahogany floor. 

He steps forward cautiously, but the floor creaks under him like a traitor and Jason's head whips up, his ears pressed back against his skull, and he looks at Dick with all the horror and fear held within his tiny frame. He puts his hands up in a gesture of peace, but it does little to assuage the look in Jason's eyes.

"Hey-- Hey, it's okay, it's just me. I wanted to come up and say that I was sorry." He steps forward again before kneeling down, only scant feet from Jason's form. He watches him with all the wariness of someone cornered, knowing there was no escape. "I should have listened to you and that's my bad."

Jason doesn't respond, simply continuing to stare. Dick falters, giving the pieces of the vase another look before his eyes returned to Jason. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

The boy hadn't expected the question. He looked surprised, some of the harsh tense lines in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. He shook his head. Dick sagged in relief. "Good. God, Bruce would have been so mad--"

And like that, all the tiny victories Dick had achieved were worthless as Jason coiled up tighter than a spring, ready to run at any moment. Dick's feathers ruffled in surprise, his hands raising again.

"At me! At me!! Not at you, it was an accident and it's all my fault cause I pushed you too much at the party and I'm *sorry*--"

A tiny voice, raspy from overuse, interrupted him. "He-- He won't be mad at me?"

Dick smiled slightly. "Nah, it's my fault, the whole thing. And besides, I doubt that vase was an original." He leans forward like he's telling a secret. "Alfred replaced all of the nice stuff with fakes after I moved in. Turns out, extra appendages--" His wings raise themselves, flapping ever so slightly. "--shouldn't be used in hallways."

Unbidden, Jason feels himself snicker slightly before reddening and looking away. Dick keeps smiling. "This one time, I turned around without thinking and I knocked over an entire table's worth of fine china."

Jason peeks over at him, his ears perking up slightly in interest. "And-- and Bruce didn't, y'know-- do anything?"

"Well, I had to clean it all up," Dick said, feeling like Jason was comfortable enough to sit closer. He eases himself against the wall carefully, tucking his wing behind Jason's back. "And then I had to polish all of the remaining china sets-- which his family had *10* of, by the way, and they are all very clean now, thanks to yours truly-- but that's it. I felt guilty enough already, the other stuff was just to really let the lesson sink in." 

Jason sniffled, finally giving Dick a good look. "He didn't, y'know-- send you away?"

"What? No!" Dick looked horrified at the notion, giving Jason a wide stare. "Bruce wouldn't ever do that--"

But he could see, somewhere in Jason's eyes, that he didn't believe that for a second. 

"Aw, kid, c'mere." Without giving Jason a chance to even think about running away from it, Dick pulled Jason towards him, settling him right up against him and curling both his arms and his wings around them both, only their heads popping out of their feathery confinement. Jason scowled up at him, half heartedly fighting the grip, but he had to admit that it was actually-- kind of nice. In its own way.

"You could *ask*, y'know," he said, giving up after a few minutes of half hearted struggle. He huffed, ears pulled back in annoyance, but tail betraying him enough to wag somewhat happily behind him. Jason sagged against Dick, the older man's head pressed against the top of his. 

"Nah, I'd rather not. The surprise is half the fun."

"That's just cause you're not the other guy."

Behind the corner, out of view, stood the lone figure of Bruce Wayne. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, a complicated emotion on his face. He would need to find a way to make Jason feel more at home. He didn't want the boy feeling like he was unwanted, or just a temporary inclusion to their home. He carefully peeked around the corner one last time before heading back down to the party. Perhaps he'd be best served if he included Dick in that plan.


End file.
